Henry ran. He had no idea if they were still chasing him, but he ran. His petite form slid through the never-ending torrent of people like a snake through grass as onlookers exclaimed at the peculiar sight.
A mere thirty minutes ago, Henry had been having a hearty dinner with his family, happily droning on about his schoolwork and personal life. His friends had been perched on his leather couch, happily guzzling away at a vast assortment of snacks. Across the room, his family members had been feasting, wolfing down on pastries, meats, and soups.
That was when they came.
They had barged in, smashing their quaint front door to a pulp of wood and glass before advancing on his family. There had been a frantic rush to the back door.
Henry wasn’t sure if his family and friends had made it. Blood pumping, he had decided to bolt for the window instead of the back door as all the others had. Crisp evening air greeted his face as he landed onto the tough concrete of the road. Without turning back, he darted away, into the crowd of onlookers.
His wary, twig-like legs were on fire, but nothing would make Henry stop. His vision started to blur around the edges, but he persisted nevertheless. Neon-lighted shops and stalls sped by as Henry swerved through the crowd.
As his legs carried him down the concrete road, thoughts and questions cascaded into his train of thought. Who were those men? Why did they break into our house? As his thoughts wondered, he realised that a humongous drop was steadily approaching him. He tried to stop. It was too late. Limbs flailing, Henry plummeted downwards,

A gentle, comforting voice greeted Henry.
“He’s finally awake.”
“W-where am I?” stammered Henry, his dreary eyes opening. His pupils darted around, scanning the blurry room before him. On his left stood a well-dressed man who looked as if he was in his 30s.
“You were unconscious for a few days. We found you lying in a dumpster, knocked out cold,” replied the man. His soothing voice lulled Henry, making him begin to drift back into his slumber.

Henry reawakened. Just as before, his newfound guardian was settled on a comfy leather chair, a book nestled in his hands.
“Ah, you’re awake again,” said the young man, a smile spanning his face. As Henry glanced around the room, he noticed an unfamiliar object seated on an antique table beside him.
“What’s that?” inquired Henry, slightly concerned.
“Oh, that’s a reconstructor. It helps to heal any wounds,” replied the man. “I just brought it incase, but you weren’t badly injured since that dumpster absorbed most of the impact.”
Curious, Henry examined the odd device, his sharp eyes scanning over every surface. The machine vaguely resembled a spotlight, with a sturdy metal stand and dim red light shining menacingly over Henry’s immobile body.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” commented the young man, startling Henry. “Also, we haven’t exchanged names yet, have we?”
“Uh, my name’s Henry, sir,” said Henry, his hands trembling ever so slightly beneath the linen covers of his bed.
“Ah, nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Juan,” said the man.
“Why?” asked Henry.
“Why what? My name?” replied Juan, befuddled.
“Why did you rescue me?” clarified Henry.
“Well, I was a friend of your father. You see, a few days ago he and most of your families members were killed. Shot. Murdered,” explained Juan as Henry’s face contorted into a frown, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. “Apparently he was a big target for the street gangs. He somehow managed to make dozens of enemies when he was a lot younger.”
Henry started to break into a quiet sob. The tears he had held in his eyes began to gush out, like water breaking through a dam. Juan gave Henry a consoling pat.
“But why would they do that?” asked Henry, his voice forlorn and broken.
“That’s what I’m going to find out,” replied Juan, slowly rising from his position on his comfortable leather chair.

“So, who is this guy we’re going to meet?” inquired Henry as he slipped a leather coat on.
“He’s an old friend of mine. Huge whizz for things like crime and murder. Now come on, we need to hurry,” said Juan, ushering Henry through the door.
As Henry stepped outside, a whole new world awaited him. Instead of the constant mechanical whirring of machinery, a flow of harmonious chirps filled his ear. Turning around in awe, he noticed that instead of the monotone iron, concrete, and brick of the city, homely cobblestone cottages dotted the road. Trees of all variants jutted up from the lush grass, with blooming flowers decorating bushes like jewelry.
“Ah, here’s his house,” said Juan before striding up to a cozy-looking cottage and rapping on the door three times consecutively.
“Coming,” shouted a light, female voice from inside.
The sound of a bolt unlocking came from inside, and the carving-smothered wood door fell back to reveal a young woman.
“Oh hello, come inside,” said the woman, beckoning them in.
The house was unlike anything Henry had ever seen before. Boards and papers were plastered on the walls, and documents were strewn across the soft sea of carpet. They were guided into a cozy living room, where a snug fireplace and mugs of tea were awaiting them.
“Henry, this is Mia,” said Juan. “She’s been researching about what happened to your family for quite a while now. I believe she has some information to tell you.”
“Indeed I do,” said Mia, sipping on her scalding mug of tea. “Your family was murdered by a specific group of people. Apparently, they all had grudges against your father and banded together against him. I have all their names and addresses here.”
Mia rifled through her cabinets wildly, flinging papers and pictures into the air before giving a sealed envelope to Henry. Henry stood. It was time to get his revenge.